December 22

One of the sad truths about moving far away from your childhood home is that you often lose --or maybe you simply forget-- a lot of the little nuances that make you who you are. That's part of why it's so nice to be here at my grandma's house, under the same roof that housed me for a few years during my childhood.

While Brady was napping and the others were out shopping this afternoon, I ventured into the basement for a look around. I found an old dollhouse of mine right where I left it years ago. As I fingered those tiny, delicate pieces of furniture, I remembered how it felt to enjoy them as a little girl; the delight that I took in opening each tiny drawer and stroking the cushion of the bright blue couch. How much I loved to arrange and rearrange the rooms.

Then I reached back a little further and pulled out a pretty white armoire. Something inside jiggled, so I carefully opened the tiny door. A cat's eye marble fell out along with this:

An original Galoob Micro Machine, circa 1986. And not just any Micro Machine, but a beautiful, bright red Corvette.

I wanted to cry but I laughed instead. How on earth did a red Corvette from 1986 wind up in my dollhouse armoire? I guess it's possible that I put it there myself many years ago, but that would've been well before Corvettes held the significance they hold now.

And honestly, it doesn't matter how it came to live in my dollhouse. It only matters that I found it, and that it reminded me that Logan is still with us in his own way.

And that, my friends, is a great blessing this Christmas season.